As a child I had a recurrent dream, I dreamt of flying.
I didn’t use my hands like wings, though. I just crossed the sky like Superman.
I got out of the window to get away from the “thieves” and… flew. No falling down.
Now, I fly when I’m awake.
And the ceiling overhead opens up to let me go

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My language is like the language of angels

incomprehensible to the deaf

is like the blade of a skate on the ice
thin

If you want to speak with me

learn to listen to the empty
to follow a rail
screaming in the subway

[wings]

And when the last feather
they will have plucked from me,
how will I fly away?